


Sun And The Rain

by coloursflyaway



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Presents, Domestic, Fluff, Harry Hart Lives, Kissing, M/M, of course
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 18:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3820270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coloursflyaway/pseuds/coloursflyaway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy doesn't know when Harry's birthday is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sun And The Rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [npw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/npw/gifts).



„Happy birthday“, Eggsy greets Harry the second he hears the other man walking into the room, maybe a bit too enthusiastically; he cannot bring himself to care though, because his heart is beating so fast, so loud that he can hardly hear his thoughts over it.  
This might be a horrible, horrible idea, he thinks now, but it's too late to go back – even if it should turn out that Harry hates it, he’s stuck here, surrounded by roughly fifty candles and a cake, the least cheesy bouquet of flowers he could get on the table of Harry’s kitchen. It’s not much, not like what Harry got him (a whole restaurant just for themselves, two bottles of champagne and a lighter which finally does electrocute you), but it’s all Eggsy can offer, and up until now, that always seemed to be enough.

And yet. Harry looks a little shocked right now, eyes wide and mouth slightly slack, one hand still on the doorknob. Eggsy can feel his insides clench almost painfully.  
“Happy birthday?”, he tries again, a little less enthusiastic, more tentative, more hopeful. More scared.

“…you do know that today is not my birthday”, Harry answers after more than a second, which feels like more than an eternity, finally closes the door and locks the rest of the world out of his flat again.  
“I do. Well, I don’t, to be honest, cuz ya never told me when it was”, Eggsy replies, feels his heart sink and sink and sink. Harry doesn’t look touched, like he had hoped for, doesn’t look pleased, doesn’t even look like he wants to go and rip Eggsy’s clothes off.

“Not even Merlin knew”, he tries, and Harry steps closer. He looks a little less shocked, a little less surprised, and maybe that is a good sign. “I asked. Well, maybe he just didn’t tell me, I dunno, but I thought... jus’ cuz you did all that for me…y’know?”  
Harry isn’t looking at him, instead looks around, at the cheap flowers and the cake Eggsy got from a supermarket close by, spelling _Happy Birthday_ in large, bright red letters. He’s silent, and Eggsy can’t take it for more than another second.

“Y’know, if ya don’t like it, I can get rid of it. The cake an’ all, it doesn’t really matter. Didn’t ‘ave time to get ya a proper present anyway, we could jus’, y’know, order some Chinese an’ forget this ever ‘appened. Alright?”  
He might not be making the most sense right now, Eggsy is aware of that, but somehow it is hard to think when he cannot read Harry, a skill he has just required a few precious months ago, sitting next to a hospital bed and still thanking the universe with every breath for keeping the man in front of him alive.  
Back then, Harry had been too tired, too broken to keep up any facades, and while Harry had learnt how to walk again, Eggsy had studied his face, memorised the meaning of each blink and every twitch.

But while Harry was open back then, there is nothing on his face now that Eggsy could identify, no emotion, and that is scarier than lunatics with big guns, than femme fatales which are just waiting for you to go to sleep before they slit your throat. Because Eggsy can take down any man with any gun, can stay awake and can feign to have gone to sleep, but he doesn’t know what to do right now.

“I’m sorry”, Harry suddenly says, shakes his head as if to get rid of an unpleasant thought, a second before Eggsy starts to seriously worry. He looks the way he should again, muscles around his eyes and mouth moving; he’s not angry, not upset. “This is…lovely. I would very much like to keep it, I just never expected something like this. I haven’t celebrated my birthday in years.”

“What.” Eggsy isn’t even asking a question, the word out of his mouth too quickly too think about it. “Oh God, please tell me that ya not one o’ those blokes who think they don’t age just cuz they ignore that another year ‘as passed. Don’t think I could ‘andle losing all respect for ya.”  
It makes Harry laugh (which is a good sign, always a good sign), and Eggsy’s heart unclenches in his chest, starts to beat once more.  
“I can assure you that that is not the case”, the older man answers, eyes trailing over the flowers and the candles, even if Eggsy wants them on him right now, nowhere else. “I have no problem with my age. There just was no reason to, the first time I was on a mission and simply forgot about it, and then found that it didn’t change anything. I didn’t feel like I had missed something, and it had spared Merlin the hassle of getting me a birthday card each year.”  
“So Merlin know your birthday?”, Eggsy is only half offended – it’s not that much of a surprise, neither that Merlin knows nor that he didn’t tell him. Ever since Harry came back from the dead, Merlin has been more than just protective of him, even if he’d never admit it .

“Of course.” Harry would be close enough for Eggsy to touch him, but he doesn’t, just keeps his hands at his sides, no matter how much they are itching for contact. “Merlin knows everything there is to know about me.”  
“Everything?” Eggsy’s lips curl up into a grin, teasing and so much more relaxed now than he was a few minutes ago. “Even that ya start cursing in bloody Portuguese when ya get really desperate to come?”

That little piece of information is one of Eggsy’s absolute favourites, together with the knowledge that he can reduce the man in front of him to a gasping mess with a single finger up his arse and Eggsy’s mouth wrapped around his cock.  
He reaches out to finally touch Harry after all, just a hand on the other’s waist when Harry says, “Yes. That too.”

And Eggsy momentarily forgets how to move at all.  
“What. Like, ya mean. Over the glasses? Or…”  
Harry, the bastard, smirks, and for a few moments, Eggsy fears he won’t get an answer, will be left to wonder for the rest of his life, but then the other has pity on him.  
“Both, now that you mention it. We have known each other for a long, long time after all.” His voice is light and teasing and a bit mischievous and Eggsy can’t do anything but shake his head slowly, the new information slowly registering.  
“You’re a sick, sick man, Harry Hart”, he announces, puts his hand where it belongs anyway, on Harry’s waist. It’s just a small, tiny bit of contact, and yet it grounds Eggsy, just like Harry always does. “Makin’ a habit out of sleeping with ya co-workers. An’ you call yourself a gentleman.”

“That I do. And I do not sleep with all of them. Just the important ones. And right up until this point, there is just one I ever continued sleeping with for a longer period of time. The most important one.” Harry’s eyes are brown and warm and still a little bit tired, like he has kept them open for too long, but they’re full of affection when they look at Eggsy; it’s as close to a love confession as they have come until now, and Eggsy can feel his heart speeding up until he can’t distinguish one beat from the next.

Somehow, everything between them was wordless until now, from a chaste first kiss in between sips of bad hospital tea, over dinner that turned into waking up the next morning, still tangled into each other’s arms, to half of Eggsy’s clothes cluttering the older man’s closets. And so Eggsy never said all the things he maybe should, and now, even though they’re pushing against his lips right now, tickling the tip of his tongue, the only thing he can think of saying is, “Good.”  
Is, “But when’s ya birthday now? Since it’s not today. I ain’t gonna ask Merlin, just FYI.”

It’s not what it should be, it’s no _You’re everything to me_ , no _There is just you, only you, always_ , no _If you hadn’t found me, I’d still be out searching_ , but the reason why Eggsy never said these things out loud is that Harry always seemed to know. And he seems to know now too.  
“Does it matter?”, he asks, though, instead of answering, and Eggsy furrows his brow, because he doesn’t know, not for sure. It shouldn’t matter, and yet…  
“Yes”, he answers finally, and Harry touches a hand to his arm, slides it over his shoulder to his neck, fingertips ghosting over Eggsy’s pulse point. “It's silly, I know that, but it does. Kinda. Just a lil bit.”

Harry just hums, doesn’t judge, pulls Eggsy closer and breathes a kiss on his lips, hardly even a kiss until Eggsy catches the other’s bottom lip between his teeth, gives it a slight tug. It makes Harry growl, kiss him properly, until Eggsy is slightly breathless, slightly dizzy, slightly head over heels for Harry.  
“You know”, Harry starts, and it’s unfair, because he still sounds unaffected, sounds calm and composed. “I think today would be just as good as a day for a birthday as any other. Don’t you agree?”

“Ya can’t just choose ya birthday though, old man”, he replies, shifts and twists in Harry’s arms until he can slide his arms around the other’s waist, his head resting against Harry’s broad chest. “Sorry to disappoint.”  
“I can’t?” Harry’s arms loop themselves around Eggsy, one hand coming to rest between his shoulder blades so the older man’s fingers can play with the hair on the nape of his neck. “Why not? I died, or almost did, my old birthday is a date I almost forgot about, and you already set up this lovely little party. So why not? Why not today?”

Harry is mad, or at least as close as he can get to it, and although the idea is a crazy one, Eggsy doesn’t mind it the least, because he was wrong before; this is as close as they have ever gotten to a love confession.  
“Did ya just let me pick out ya birthday?”, he asks, with a smile on his lips that is growing bigger and bigger by the seconds. “You’re a horrible sap. Absolutely horrible. Should be glad that I stick with ya.”

He pulls away slowly, looks at Harry, whose eyes seem to say _I am_ , and fetches the cheap, slightly withered bouquet from the table, holding it out for the older man to take.  
“Happy birthday”, he says again, but this time, he’s not nervous, not scared, not even excited; he’s happy and safe and in love.  
And Harry takes the bouquet, surely getting his fingers and suit wet, and smiles back, warm and bright and lovingly.  
“Thank you”, he says, and Eggsy’s heart skips a beat, because his voice makes it sound like _I adore you_ , “Happy birthday to me.”  


 

**Author's Note:**

> In case you want to say hi, send me a prompt, or tell me something nice, you can find me on Tumblr here:  
> [X](http://www.coloursflyaway.tumblr.com)


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